


A Sinppet

by G0WNLIN



Series: treasure canon! [2]
Category: TREASURE (Korea Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, Fluff, M/M, Secret Relationship, talking things out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:46:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28213380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/G0WNLIN/pseuds/G0WNLIN
Summary: Mashiho fell sick and Junkyu had to take care of his poor boyfriend.
Relationships: Kim Junkyu/Takata Mashiho
Series: treasure canon! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066721
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	A Sinppet

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, I've wanting to write a second part to this. Hope you enjoy!

He always had it in him from the beginning, he always did. Everyone could see it, most of the time both of their leaders were in full hands. It wasn’t any surprise when Hyunsuk and Jihoon were pointed as leaders and took their jobs seriously right away, and gave it all their best. For their group, for every member, for themselves. Those restless nights where they both would stay up late for some relevant discussions they needed to share only between the pair, locking themselves in the studio. Along with those times where they would sacrifice themselves for another part of their group, whether it be accompany them somewhere or lose their weekend.

He knew one person who helped them out tremendously, willingly but not very openly. Junkyu would catch him from a distance, scolding Jeongwoo, who still hasn’t abandoned his terrible habit of biting his nail in front of cameras, flicking the younger’s nose with his fingers. Elated cheers would shoot out of the small male, even when the rest of the boys would be down on the hard bleak floor after their labouring hours of repeating the same choreo. The endless spirit still burning inside him, lighting a spark in the rest of the band. Not to mention the time the Japanese male traveled from one dorm to another, just so everyone’s fridge was polished clean, like as tasked by their manager. If the assignment wasn’t seized yet, he would bolster in. 

Mashiho played such an important role in their group, and that made Junkyu extra proud of his precious boyfriend. 

Whenever Junkyu overrun himself in landslides of thick brainstorms, he would always come up to one conclusion. Takata Mashiho just had a big fat heart. He was very attentive, to those who needed attention and even those who hide away from being entangled. It was naturally in him, Yoshi would say, as he had always been the biggest cheerleader in their group from Japan, emotionally and physically. He lived everyday to the fullest, being beyond the kindle gesture anyone can ever be. He was an angel, definitely Junkyu’s angel. 

Nevertheless, the course of true love never did run smooth (Junkyu had always believed Mashiho is his true love). Junkyu for the past weeks, or maybe a month he had counted on his calendar, was distraught. Mashiho was generous, and he loved all his members dearly. But now, it was as if Junkyu was nothing to him, just a simple news that blared every morning from the TV, nothing to take account of. In their breaks, like usual he would ask if he wanted to stop by the convenient store with him, but Mashiho rejected and said he had a promise with Junghwan. There was also a time where he offered to get something at the cafeteria together, his boyfriend exhibited him a wrapped sandwich while tilting his head to Yedam, striking out laughs beside him. In practise, he would bring over a water bottle for him, he stopped in his tracks right away, just staring at the smaller male jugging down water, with Doyoung dabbing the sweat that dribbled on his temple. 

The world made it seem as if Mashiho didn’t need him anymore. He lost contact with him. Fatal waves crashed on his back, breaking the boulders and plunging him rock bottom. 

Dismayed with desolation, and a small flare of jealousy set ablaze within him. 

For a dreadful quarter of the season, Junkyu tried not to cooperate with the other male. He did his part, the brunet texted him, nothing too onerous, a walk to the entertainment together, or just ice cream the way home. The answer he got from Mashiho never differed. Let’s just say it ached his chest. He couldn’t do anything about it. He knew how clingy he already was, and he didn’t want to interfere with Mashiho’s uncluttered plans. He didn’t have the rights to. Additionally, they were keeping their relationship backstreet. 

On any occasion where they stood next to each other in interviews or grouped together, Junkyu did his best to conduct the seething flame inside of him. They would turn into full ignorance from him whenever Mashiho tried to catch his attention with his witty adorable behaviour. If they needed him to react to whatever he did, Junkyu would end up just shoving him, smacking his shoulder lightly, or just teasing him, before completely neglecting the younger again. 

Junkyu knows, he was stupid for all that. Heck, this resentment inside of him was unessercarry. At twilight, his eyelids hovered, as his heart chanted apologies to his boyfriend, who would be asleep tightly under his cotton blanket not afar.

He didn’t need anyone to tell him that he was a terrible person. He knew he was. A terrible person. A terrible bandmate. A terrible boyfriend.

Weekend befall around and Junkyu found himself settled in his PC gaming chair, obscured headphone around his neck, and fingers flowing on his keyboard. Notes tingled every missing beat, and melodies strung out, sometimes even bothering a poor Haruto slanted by the kitchen counter. Circling his eyes at the groans, Junkyu higher the volume and run the notes in an unorderly and earspitting manner. 

Ever since their dorms were organized to have individual rooms, Junkyu wanted to make the best of it. With his dreams becoming reality, there was no time to waste and he wanted to give it all he got. After all those days of training, this is the point where he had to work even harder. He wasn’t going to let bothering thoughts take over his mind when he could be thinking about more useful things. 

Blaring rings from his vibrating phone, he groaned back in response. It was weird reading Jeongwoo’s contact name on the flashing screen, as he usually got calls from only his parents if not Jihoon these days. Nevertheless with a tiring swipe, Junkyu brought the device to his ear. 

“Hey Woo, what do you need?” 

_“Um, Junkyu hyung. Can you come over?”_

Junkyu leaned back on his chair, “Why?”

A yearning pause was held, and the younger male on the other line quipped, _“Well you see, Jihoon and Doyoung hyung are out and busy,”_ Rigid shuffles dragged the call, _“I think Mashiho hyung is sick and I don’t know what to do,”_

An abrupt clench on his chest vigor Junkyu, resurrect his long legs, crashing his wheeled chair into his unkempt bed, “Jeongwoo—”

_“Plus, he’s been calling out for your name hyung. I— I don’t know, can—”_

Ceasing the call with a thrust on a button, the brunet roved around for his coal padding coat. Insufficient about the pair of lousy sweatpants that he dragged his legs in, Junkyu hollered his withdrawal in the living room. Right before he was fully out, he heard Haruto screaming out joy, Junkyu was saving his energy for the blistering weather rather than that annoying teen. 

Arriving at the dorm where four of his other bandmates resided, he kicked off his shoes and trudged to the room two doors away from the kitchen. He had hung up his coat on the towering hanger, and slipped off his damp gloves. Unsealed and expanded broadly, he welcomed himself in, concealing the erupting guilt that murdered him. 

The youngest of dorm B had hauled a small stool over by the bunk bed, a plastic bowl seated on top. Junkyu’s eyes wandered quickly around the room, a familiar place that he hadn’t visited often lately. Nothing changed, with everything perfectly in its place, as the small trinkets that embellished the place were also in their restricted spots. A pair of sweatpants dangled from the upper bunk, as well as a knitted scarf.

Jeongwoo was in the furthest corner, rubbing the back of his nape. He flickered up brightly soon as he crosspaths with the new arrival, shuffling to him, still in his night shorts and drowsy football shirt. With a grip on Junkyu's wrist, Jeongwoo sighed with blitheness.

“How is he?” Jeongwoo only tilted his head. 

The sweltering atmosphere wasn’t hard to acknowledge, as Junky’s wrapped feet with his cotton socks shuffled closer to the bed. As a shower of invisible sweat rained on him, Junkyu bit his lip. Face drenched with nothing but paleness, cheeks flaming a painful tint of amber and his mouth trembled with the hot air. He lay on his left side, covers reaching up to his sore neck, with his body shivering visibly under them. The damp cloth hung on his temple, on the verge of toppling over and eyes tightly shut. His small body did not look anywhere near fine. 

Junkyu hated to admit that the remorse in him soared, tying the back of his throat. 

Picking up the small towel from his forehead, Junkyu shifted it, and placed it back on the younger. He then pressed two of his fingers just under Mashiho’s hairline, silently cursing. The burn bolted all the way to his arm and up his head. 

“You poor thing,” He mumbled. 

Junkyu faced the other male standing up, holding on to the fingers that still burned.

“We’ll have to find medicine for him. Pretty sure Doyoung _hyung_ has placed some in the cupboard somewhere,” Jeongwoo muttered, leaning himself on Mashiho’s desk.

Smacking the younger’s hip, Junkyu glowered at him, “Has he had breakfast yet?” 

“I don’t think so,” Jeongwoo crossed his arm as he stood up right again.

“Then there’s no use of giving him medicine,” Junkyu spitted. 

Jeongwoo shrugged, “Then give him food,” 

“You go buy him something,”

With a scowling pout, he creased his brows at Junkyu. The older man whiffed out a sigh, lugging his worn out wallet from his pocket. A few bills prodded out at Jeongwoo, and he clapped delightfully.

“Here, also grab yourself a warm drink,”

The younger couldn’t be much more pleased than he already was. Streaming with overjoyed skips, Jeongwoo scampered out of the door. 

“You’ll take care of Mashiho _hyung_ right!” 

“Yes, I will!”

He placed the basin on Mashiho’s desk, it’s water still warm and quivered with the ripples. Junkyu then pulled the stool back slightly, before sitting himself down on the firm stool. Stomach churning, arms quaked with specks all over, Junkyu gawked at the younger. He rubbed his palm together, as if the burning atmosphere around them wasn’t hot enough.

Devoured by the white covers, Mashiho didn’t look harmonious. Junkyu wasn’t even sure if he was asleep. His brows crinkled, as trickles of sweat trailed down his face like rivers. Tarnish lips pressed distressfully, shoulders twitching. Steaks of dried streams trailed from under his eyes to his cheeks, oh, how the sight made him feel even much more guilty. 

Junkyu brushed his drenched coal hair, touch as faint as feathers. “You poor thing,” He mumbled, lips barely separating, “What did you do to get so sick,” He hooked a finger on the younger’s palm, soaked and thawed. 

Mashiho’s restless groans only swelled up.

“ _Hyung_?”

His head tilted near Junkyu’s arm, eyes still shut, cheeks still flaring. 

Junkyu didn’t know what ambushed his voice, only to stare at him. 

“Junkyu _hyung_?” His rusty voice croaked again, and the touch on Junkyu’s finger tightened. 

The older stroked Mashiho’s hair again, “Y—es Mashi?” He reassured, “Is there something you need?”

“It’s kinda cold,” He muttered, “Can you get me another blanket from my closet, the blue snoopy one?” 

“Of course! Of course. Right away, prince,” 

Mashiho’s lips weakly folded into a small smile. At least that made him feel a tinge better.

Probing through the heaps of well folded clothes, Junkyu discreetly fends off the neat stacks. It was the guilt in him that really paid him off to play his careful cards. Junkyu knew of how clumsy he was, and he didn’t want to be a burden to the sick latter. Plus, everyone knew how crazy of a neat freak his boyfriend was. 

On the highest shelf was where all Mashiho’s sheets were. Cautiously he hauled out a brown thick blanket, and brought it over to the one on the bed. Junkyu draped the corners open, swathed it over Mashiho, but was held back from landing on his body.

Mashiho rapidly shook his head, “Not that one,” He demurred, voice soggy and strained with his awful throat. 

“But I can’t find the blue one,” Junkyu said, drawing the soft felt close to him.

“ _Hyung_ , I don’t want that,”

“Mashiho, just take this one,”

“But I want the blue one…” 

Eyes diminished into puddles of cushioned marbles, the older flinched at the bolt of electricity that traveled up his spine. Clamp on the feather material melted into fragile crumbs, chest easing with the river that flowed inside him. The fever he had seized him to be in mulls of broiled heat, but glacial to his shivering skin. A side of him that he wouldn’t really show often had woken up. In whiny pouts and cranky sulks. This was the Mashiho no one really saw much off. 

Propping down to his knees, Junkyu tangled his fingers with Mashiho’s coal black hair. Junkyu removed the cloth from his temple, and blew thin strands, tickling his lashes, “I can’t find your snoopy blue one right now, but you need to keep warm. You don’t want this fever to get worse right?” 

Mashiho sluggishly shook his chin. 

“It must still be in the laundry basket. I will wash it first then you can use it.” The flat side of his thumb caresses his brows and the top bridge of his nose. Junkyu’s touch was heart easing, culminating with a beam, “Meanwhile, can you use this one first, please?” 

Unseen trickles of honey dribbled down his doe eyes, serene his thin colourless lips into a gentle smile. With a short reach, Mashiho grappled the copper shade blanket, with the help of Junkyu draping it over his snuggled body. The older top it off with a warm peck on his temple. 

For another fifteen minutes, Mashiho drifted off into his slumber, not lasting as long as Junkyu had thought. Or at least, not as long as Jeongwoo was taking to buy the food. Mashiho had braced himself on the wall, with his covers reaching under his elbow and his hands playing with the loseining thread. Junkyu tried to stop him from sitting up, but the younger complained that his back ached if he stayed lying on his bed. 

Semblance brimmed with peevish heftiness. It was strange for them, especially since they labelled each other as lovers, yet not a single word uttered from their desired mouths. As if their throats were clogged with the polluting air, and lungs struck by lightning, unable to mend back together. Under the soft duvet, Junkyu watched the younger tickle his toes, maybe Mashiho didn’t want to talk. Maybe he just needed the presence of someone else.

Junkyu rubbed his knees together, sitting on the small stool. He really hoped that Mashiho's silence was anything other than he’s mad at Junkyu. The fingers did point at him, it was because of Junkyu that they were in this very unsettling situation. He knows he should have been a better boyfriend and approached Mashiho sooner to fix this, but what can he do now? Mashiho was also the one that didn’t want him in the first place, Junkyu thought of it as a favour and not to interact with him, like how he wanted it to be. 

Alright, maybe a part of him was blaming the younger. But how else are you supposed to approach your boyfriend who clearly doesn’t have time for you? Exactly, Junkyu was all so muddled up. 

Everytime he looked at Mashiho, he didn’t seem to take the knowledge that he was sitting awkwardly by him. But the unsettling movement of shuffled blankets and scuffles of his feet, Mashiho also looked uncomfortable. 

“So, when did you last eat?” 

This was genuine. He wasn’t trying to convey the younger into any serious conversation. Junkyu was worried, with time ticking off quickly and no signs of Jeongwoo being back, he was sure the younger still had an appetite. 

Mashiho blinked his eyes, flickering his gaze over at him, “Um, I had a midnight snack with Doyoung,” He hummed, “We cooked ramen together,” 

“You haven't had breakfast then,” 

“Yeah, not yet.” 

He checked the clock on his phone, “Jeongwoo should be here soon,”

Mashiho disputed a groan. With a scrunch on his nose, he shuddered, “ _Hyung_...my stomach doesn’t feel too go—”

The younger man shimmered his chin on his chest. Straining the blankets sprawled on him, Mashiho yanked the baggy quilt off his legs and crawled over to the edge of the bed. Mashiho clawed the ladder, his nails digging as he cocked his head, emptying the inside of his stomach. 

Junkyu rubbed his nape. He scuffed the pillows hurdling Mashiho, and murmured soothing whispers. Mashiho lifted his head up, only to gag and sagged down below. 

Cleaning up Mashiho’s mess wasn’t irksome at all. He accompanied the other to the bathroom, supporting him with one arm, but he ended up carrying him, legs hooked in one elbow and his back on the other. as Junkyu thought it would be faster. Incase Mashiho threw up on the corridor, that would just burden the people of the dorm even more. 

While Mashiho cleaned himself up, Junkyu took out the mop and tidied up his floor. He even dug in the cupboard by the kitchen, spraying divine lavender air freshener all over the room, and replacing the small tub into warmer water. Mashiho had limped his way back, heaving the whiff, and Junkyu frantically hoisting up his feet and wafting him on his covers. 

Not too long later, Jeongwoo greeted the two with an impudent grin. He then skipped over with a bowl of soup. 

Just like Junkyu said before, cleaning up after Mashiho wasn’t hard. Feeding him drew more energy and patience than cleaning his mess.

Junkyu hovered a spoonful of the hot soup near his mouth, and it wasn’t hard to get it into Mashiho’s mouth. The older then remembered to get him water, scurrying into the kitchen to get a glass. As he got back, Mashiho sat the same. With the same position. 

Only, he still had his mouthful. Light tears peeking out under his eye and falling on his steaming fair cheeks. 

He felt awful from making him cry. But nevertheless, Mashiho needed to eat. After persuading him, in length and width, the smaller male finally accepted the spoonfuls, still trying his best to compose his gushing meager tears.

His extra blanket ended up tearing into a napkin, all damp and covered in his smears. He finished his bowl of soup, and took his medicine seldomly. Junkyu propped him up against the wall once again, as the younger still found arms a bit sore. He wanted to take out the empty utensils into the kitchen and wash them, but Mashiho tugged on his sleeve. He can do it later, he said with a hopeful tone. And Junkyu had no choice.

Different from an hour ago, Mashiho’s gaze pondered him. He could feel it, scrutinize all over his figure that sat there, on the small stool. Junkyu’s heart tumbled. 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Mashiho muttered all throaty, “Can I ask you something?” 

Alas looking away from his fiddling fingers, Junkyu cocked a brow. 

“Why are you avoiding me?”

Tremors rippled unhindered by his spine. Junkyu should be glad the younger was confronting him. Now he didn’t need to. But why was it so awry to him.

“I know you can’t deny it. Because it’s true. You are ignoring me,”

Mashiho bit his lip, still waiting for the other party answer. Yet, no words uttered out.

Drowning in his soaking shirt, Mashiho held himself back from throwing punches at him, “Did you get tired of me? Are you bored already?” 

Junkyu’s chest tightened. 

“No, no...it’s definitely not that.”

Mashiho gritted his teeth. Wrath seeping from his tongue, toned down by his hot temper, “Then why?” 

A loser. Junkyu is so weak, he wouldn’t even admit how immature he was being with the younger. 

“It’s like you have no more time for me,” Junkyu’s tongue swelled, “Outside of schedule you're always with everyone except for me. I don’t know if you’re getting bored of me or whatever, but it really bothered me.” 

“Where did you even get that idea? You’re being ridiculous _hyung_ ,” 

Junkyu snorted at himself, “Every time I text you, you always say you have other plans. You’re always booked.”

“Then if it bothered you, why didn’t you tell me anything? Instead of just ignoring me,” 

Tweaking his face away, Junkyu picked himself up. “Not going to lie, I thought that you would quit it and have time for me eventually,” He gathered the soiled bowl, “But I guess time was just so fast. It felt like I haven’t seen your face for three months, even though we see each other everyday.” 

Junkyu stepped closer, amassing the empty cup beside Mashiho. 

“We can talk about this another time. Don’t waste your voice or your throat will worsen,” He mumbled, with a fading grin. “Get some sleep Mashi,” 

He was scatting away.

Bolstering his arms to hoist his weak body off his covers, Mashiho held on to the ladder. On his feet, with his groggy mind, Mashiho limped his way to the other, close to the door. Head heavy, eyelids droopy didn’t stop him from dragging his frail self to chase Junkyu on. 

“You coward. You’re letting a sick person run after you, who always runs away!”

Stunned, Junkyu abandoned the dirty utensils and spun around. “What are you doing?” He hollered, upholding him by his arms. 

Mashiho aggressively raised his chin with a sneer, pressing their noses with their tips touching. Air between them was thick, killing his thoughts. “I'm not letting you off easily this time Kim Junkyu,” 

His hazelnut eyes sheened, overgrown and yielding. The stare was piercing, pending into Junkyu’s reluctant chest. 

“You idiot. You loser!” 

“I know I am,” 

“Then let us talk this out. Why the fuck are you running away again? You think that will fix anything? I’m tired of you playing this stupid game, _hyung_!”

Heavy pants, cunning spits. Mashiho’s shoulder stuttered in his hold. 

“Fine,”

He tried hurling away his anger. How was Mashiho not fuming? Ignore his unwell health. If Junkyu really didn't want to talk it out and just flee away, it was the same as saying he had no hope for their relationship. But Mashiho still wanted it to work. He wasn’t as hopeless, and he knows Junkyu was better than that. 

They were back to where they started. Only this time, the younger one demanded for him to sit on the bed. Junkyu was on the tip of the mattress, as he placed Mashiho by the wall. 

“Why did you stop texting me?”

“Why do I have to keep on answering your questions?”

“Because if I don’t you will run away again,” Mashiho chided. Arms crossed, face burning from his declining temperature. 

“You’re the one who started to not have contact with me.” 

He threw a fanning glare at the older, “When did I ever?”

“At breaks we don’t go to the convenient store together anymore. You even rejected our usual hangout days,” Junkyu stammered. The younger’s intimidating temper was petrifying enough for him. Razoring brows and deluge frown, Junkyu hesitated to look at him. 

“Only because you stopped texting me after that night. You never sent me morning or night messages anymore. I thought you were mad at me.”

“I was never mad at you!” Junkyu declared, grazing his palm on his thigh. “Even the usual things we did together you wouldn’t have time, so I thought...you know...” 

“You’re denying that you’re jealous, aren’t you?” 

Junkyu tug on his hair, “I’m so stupid,” He groaned hiding his face, “I didn’t realise how childish I sound, fuck!”

The older was submerging in his own dose of bewilderment. Junkyu buried his nose deeper in his palms, and hearing Mashiho giggle made him wail even more. He had never felt so embarrassed in front of someone he loved.   
As if the northern wild had cooled down his fumes against Junkyum leaving his fever on his temple, Mashiho grinned. His boyfriend was too beaten to admit jealousy, and he didn’t know what could be cuter. He leaned his head back on the wall, with a sigh reviving from his lips.

“I have something to say.”

Junkyu had a debate with himself, whether to look at his lover in his eyes or not. But with Mashiho tugging his sleeve, he finally clasped their eyes together. And the relief in him, oozing inside, because finally Mashiho didn't look all miserable again. Finally, Mashiho had a smile. A smile, as if he wasn’t pondering through a high fever. A smile he missed. 

“Around our debut days Hyunsuk _hyung_ asked me why I found you really comfortable. I don’t know why but I was paranoid, I didn’t want him to get a hold of us. Especially with the fact that, I'm not ready to explain to the group about us.” 

The fingers tugging on his sleeve traveled to his palm, slipping under his hold. Junkyu took his little pinky, and caressed the skin underneath. His soothing touch. It still burned like fire. But still tranquilizing, the feeling of missing spring on a December night.

“So at that time, I guess I kinda tried blending in with the others more. But I don’t know why, I didn't tell you that. I guess I didn’t want you to be worried. Or laugh at me for being so unreasonable.” 

“Why would you think that? You’re always the worried Mashi I know, I would understand! You were trying to only make me jealo—”

“I swear, I wasn't trying to make you jealous!”

Junkyu shuffled closer, setting himself right next to the younger. Their fingers still locked.

“Then, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I told you, I was scared.”

“Be we promise to trust each other,”

Mashiho puffed his cheeks, spitting a furious glare, “You too! You didn't say anything to me!”

A tint of joy sprayed within a breath, pinching Junkyu’s cheeks. He then tilted toward the younger, stretching his arms out. Mashiho leaned in right away, latching around his neck, firmly with desire. Desire he hadn’t thought he had in him, dug so deep under his heart. 

Junkyu lifted his lover, not minding his sweltering heat, and onto his lap. Around his waist, just like how he used to spend his night hours, a place where his arms fit perfectly. 

With Mashiho’s searing cheek on his shoulder, Junkyu muttered, “So did we both learn our lesson?”

The younger snuggled even closer, “I'm sorry,”

“I'm sorry too, baby,”

Junkyu cupped Mashiho’s face, just a few centimeters away from his. Drawing circles with his thumb, as Mashiho pouted. 

“Promise, to always confront each other. Alright?” 

With a blissful smile, Mashiho nodded, “I promise,” 

Their promise was sealed with a gentle peck. Light, but fluttering enough for all the butterflies in their stomachs.

Huddled in the younger’s heaps of blankets, Junkyu had flipped him around. Mashiho rested his back on his chest, with the frothiness of the upcoming evening up their toes. But he didn’t mind that, with Junkyu’s arms still securely around his waist, the coldness seemed to fend him off. 

Mashiho glanced to his side, just hovering his left shoulder, “You know, being jealous is normal, right?”

Junkyu hummed, and endured the rubs on his stomach.

“If you aren’t jealous, then you don’t really love me,”

“That’s not true!” 

“It is. I always see how your face turns dark whenever I’m with Doyoung.” 

“Whatever,” The older male scoffed, “I know you still love me the most!” 

“I never said that,” 

“Then why did you keep on saying my name in the morning to the point where Jeongwoo had to call me?” He teased, smearing Mashiho with his finger, “Or do I have to wait for you to get sick first so you can chant my name like that?” 

The smaller male nipped Junkyu’s waist. He flinched and snapped away his hand. 

Junkyu titled his face by Mashiho’s ear, “I mean, you also do it when you’re under me.”

Mashiho sharply elbowed his rips, “Shut up!” 

“I'm not wrong,” He pouted with a groan, “At least you're always in control,”

“Only because you’re scared of hurting me! _Excuses_ ,”

Lurching into Junkyu, Mashiho curled up with his blankets. He leaned his head on Junkyu’s chest, and pressed the older’s lips together with his fingers. 

“Zip your mouth and let me sleep,”

Bemused, Junkyu glanced at the bundle on top of him, “Like this?”

Under the thaw blanket, the younger clinged his arms closer, “Yeah, like this,”

Those three months of their relationship one would say was a waste. Junkyu viewed below, his small lover, huddled close with his sheets and a pretty smile rested on his sleeping face. The prettiest one ever. The most precious ever. The months they spent away from each other, he wanted to turn them away from regret. It taught both of them a good lesson, and it was best of them to take away the ideal idea from it.

Junkyu pressed a fluttering kiss on the younger’s head. With that, they won’t waste anymore time. They are going to become better. Better people, better partners. For each other. But mostly for themselves. 

Love is beautiful. Junkyu was even more glad he found it in Mashiho. He could never find someone else better, and no one can ever replace the place Mashiho had won in him.

**Author's Note:**

> tbh, I don't know how to feel about this work. I had a lot of trouble for some reasons. 
> 
> But, thank you so much for reading! I'm just a reader so I hope it satisfied you enough. Thank you and have a great day/night!  
> [ @G0WNLIN ](https://www.twitter.com/G0WNLIN)  
> [cc](https://www.curiouscat.me/G0WNLIN)


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